Find You Anywhere
by Ky03elk
Summary: An AU Caskett meeting. Because regardless of time or distance, they will find each other. Three shot.
1. Chapter 1

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 **Find You Anywhere**

 **.**

 **Chapter One**

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An AU Caskett meeting. Because regardless of time or distance, they will find each other. Three shot.

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Her eyes had captured him first.

They're a green that isn't a green; instead they possess a color that ripples and shifts depending on where she stands under the artificial spotlights he's slowly becoming accustomed to. They don't cross paths every day, but when they do he has to dance around the shadows, can never see enough of her in the narrow beams that stretch across her face in thin lines. The inconsistency of their synthetic illumination cuts diagonally until it falls onto the barren, red landscape and it changes the shade in her irises; fern, juniper, pear, pine.

Except that's not the case at all.

It had taken him six months of _accidentally_ bumping into her, six months of flimsy excuses about why he was anywhere near her, before the truth smacked him hard in the stomach and he'd doubled over with his newfound knowledge.

Well, not really.

The isolation may be encouraging his already dramatic imagination into one that now forms slightly - _considerably_ \- exaggerated stories of his time here, narrated with a voice that sounds suspiciously like James Patterson's.

He'd actually stood straight before her, a wisecrack perched on the tip of his tongue. But then she'd turned, her eyes darkening, lashes descending and he'd deflated as the air was knocked from his chest - she'd left him without any breath to speak of.

Without any breath to speak.

The psychologists in their white offices at home would have a field day with that-

Wait, where was he?

Oh, her eyes. The way they transform. Not because of the bulbs that offer light when the sun's rays have descended too far from the surface, or when the moons zip across the sky, fireflies dancing ever on loop, yet too far from this planet to offer any romantic glow.

Her tint of green deepens in response to her emotions.

And tonight, they're alight, a bright emerald that hurls sparks through the glass of her helmet, hitting his suit, circular singe marks forming as they settle onto the dull grey, seeping into his skin and igniting a trail within his veins, all the way to his heart.

As she captures him completely.

.

.

"I have no idea why, yet again, I'm forced to put up with you and your stalkerish behavior." Kate slams the pole into the hard, red dirt, swallowing the groan of annoyance as the metal bounces off a rock, refusing to penetrate the surface as it should. Worse yet, Castle reaches for the rod, slamming it into the ground on his first go - that's not creating salacious images - before turning to face her.

"You know that stalkerish isn't an actual word, right? Wasn't there an IQ test you had to pass to get a seat on the mission? Because mine was extensive; basic vocab and grammar a deal breaker."

Ass.

"You do know that your last sentence was actually a fragment, and you should probably consider revising it?" She lifts an eyebrow, stares down her nose as she waits for his volley back, but nothing comes, his shoulders drop, his shadow shrinking in length against the bleak Mars terrain.

Silence at last.

"I miss Word. Is it possible to miss a program?"

Her sarcastic reply evaporates at the stunned husk that coats his question, even if the temperature is steadily crashing toward freezing, and she traps the inside of her mouth with her molars as she sorts through all the empty platitudes she could offer him.

It's okay. We all miss different things. We'll be home soon.

"Actually don't answer that, Beckett. I miss googling for porn, so I guess it is."

"You're abhorrent. You know that, right?"

"That's hot. Say that again."

His teeth flash as he smiles wide, the blue in his eyes so similar to the lake south of her parents' cabin, a crystal-clear expansion that sparkled under the summer sun.

After six months on Mars she misses water.

"Go back to your own camp, Castle. You're not wanted or needed at this one."

It's harsh, she's being _harsh_ , but his voice slides through the speaker in her helmet, curving through the fine strands of hair at the back of her nape, tracing a heated trail down her spine, and it's annoying, irritating...

Cutting straight through to her core and producing a warm glow that's unwanted - _wanted._

"I'm hurt, Beckett, truly wounded by your insinuation." He lifts both hands, palms facing her as he takes a step back, his voice pitched high, his grin all flash and dazzle. "Want to kiss me better?"

For a second remorse laced her veins, and then he had to open his mouth. Again.

 _Ass_.

He can't go home soon enough.

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"Isn't it your first anniversary today? A whole year of being here?" Rick flickers his gaze over the small portion of her profile he can see. As he waits for her answer, he takes ahold of the metal lid she's lifting while also trying to peer into the wires. Hopefully for her crew this is just a routine check on their sleeping station, nothing catastrophic, although they could always bunk in over at his camp...

But she doesn't reply, doesn't shift to acknowledge his presence and he tugs his lips up, stretches his smile, pushes his persona to be a little brighter. Although shouldn't they be past this by now? "We should do something to celebrate."

"Like what, Castle?" She twirls the screwdriver between her fingers, up and down in a dance he envies; to be that close to her, to be in rhythm with her. "Should we paint the town red? Drink until we can't stand straight? Or throw caution to the dust storm and screw like bunnies?"

"Uh..." All three sound great to him but saying so would likely end with the sharp end of that tool through his chest and him bleeding out on this god forsaken planet.

And then she turns.

The corners of her mouth are pinched tight, and it tugs the normal curves of her face into planes, a harsh evenness to her cheekbones replacing her usually defined, arched ones. A vein lines her forehead, prominent on the stretch of skin he daydreams about kissing.

What would she taste like against his tongue? Salty? Sweet? And if he lowered his lips to her mouth? Firm? Soft?

"Stop staring, Castle, it's creepy." The razor snap to her admonishment brings him crashing back to reality and he brushes a gloved finger across her screen, presses the glass as if he were touching her features.

Takes one hell of a risk.

"Are you okay, Kate?"

She jerks back - because of their contact? Or his question? - pivoting on her toes, the stomp of her boots smacking the surface loud, although imagined, as she storms away from him.

Their communication devices are the only way to hear anything when they are suited up, and all that's coming through to him is static.

She's turned hers off.

.

.

The oxygen level in her tank, while not low, has fallen significantly by the time she drags herself back to her station, her mood plunging further alongside its drop, and she moves to rake her hand through her hair, her fingertips slamming hard into her helmet as learned behavior wins against common sense and fact.

It's just another thing to be tired of.

A whole year of things to be tired of.

At least she had enough good judgment left to flick her radio back on, the familiar chat of her fellow adventurers growing stronger as she enters their _home_ , and she ducks under the low beams which bracket the main door way; stands and waits in the small internal chamber for it to fill with oxygen.

"Hey, Beckett, where have you been? The party's started and it's going to be so loud they'll hear us back on Earth!" Jones slaps her shoulder as she steps out, his face alight with joy, or maybe just flushed with the pseudo alcohol they'd been saving for today, and she lifts her lips into a smile, even as her fingers curl into her gloved palms.

"I'm just going to take a shower, get this dust out of my joints. But I'll be there soon."

She won't.

It hardly seems to matter to Jones, he's already darting into the next chamber, their make-shift kitchen and dining area located in the opposite direction to their sleeping quarters, a right to the left that she's trudging toward.

Her helmet goes first, creating a thud as she tosses it with more force than she should, but it's in the designated spot - she's not a slob regardless of her mood - and that has to count for something.

Maybe...

Angling the mirror attached to her cupboard door, she carefully avoids looking at her own features, avoids her mother's eyes in the reflection. Instead she slips her fingers underneath her collar, grasping the chain and lifting the ring that weighs far too much today.

Of all the dates that management could have deemed as a go, choosing this one had an odd sense of irony.

As her mother had left earth one way, years later Kate had done the same, but in a significantly different manner.

Today was for mourning, grieving, not for celebrating, even if no one knew, if _he_ had no idea, no knowledge why.

She does.

She knows the only thing today can mean to her.

Pivoting, she reaches behind her for the metal clasp that buckles at the top of her suit, shutting her lashes as the heaviness increases her exhaustion, but before her eyes close all the way, the sight of her bed floods her system with adrenaline.

It's not the bed itself but the lone item sitting proudly on top of her standard issued sleeping bag, which startles her alive. A coffee mug where no coffee mug should be, and she edges a little closer, trapping her bottom lip as she peers at the abnormality.

There are coffee grounds sitting snug within the porcelain. Not like the ones at home - she's not that naive - but they have a smell that she can pretend is real, a texture that she's sure will feel like coffee beans rather than dried powder, and as she lifts to cradle the cup between her palms, her heart stutters against her rib cage.

Scrawled across the blue side of the mug in black marker is his message,

 _A smile for every morning here_.

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It's the cracks in his persona that capture her first.

He bustles around her camp as if it's his, sits beside her when she's attempting to work at the controls, helps himself to their minimal supplies as if they weren't on rations, and every action grates at her skin, straightens her spine with indignation, annoys the hell out of her.

But then the façade seems to slip and he'll do something… _sweet._ He'll make her a coffee that actually tastes decent, arms outstretched as if he's presenting her with an award. Or he'll hold the door for her - even though she is more than capable of doing it herself - and he'll smile, not just with his lips, but with his whole face as he looks at her, only her.

And she forgets.

Forgets that this is a mission that requires all her focus. That she has no time for jokes that aren't funny - okay, maybe he's a little funny. That she can't fall for this jackass - _wiseass_ \- infuriating - _charming_ \- child - _man_ \- from the other camp.

At night she lies in bed ignoring the gnawing in her stomach that begs for the full sensation that comes with stuffing her face with a cronut. She ignores the way her tongue scrapes across her teeth seeking out the lush flavors of her favorite glass of red, and she stares at the plain white ceiling of her room, trying to avoid the idea that she's already falling for him.

Falling for him and his mug full of coffee.

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Thank you to Jo and Jamie for the beta, and for making sure it got finished (even if it did take me months) xoxo

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Thank you for reading xoxo


	2. Chapter 2

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 **Find You Anywhere**

 **.**

 **Chapter Two**

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An AU Caskett meeting. Because regardless of time or distance, they will find each other. Three shot.

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.

It was his touch that had changed her mind, driving the final nail into the coffin of her self-restraint.

They spend most of their time - what little time they have together - in their suits, protected against the elements of Mars; the lack of oxygen, the rolling dust storms. Even when he worms his way inside her station, she not so subconsciously shields herself, the thick, durable material they wear a barrier between them, a last frontier that keeps them apart.

Keeps her from falling all the way to his side, into his eyes, under his spell.

Not that she believes in magic... Or at least she didn't.

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.

"You just have to kiss my finger better, Kate. It's not rocket science." He wiggles his hand in her direction, displays the miniscule mark that is nothing more than a paper cut, egging her on, but once again she refuses to take the bait and he huffs out a dramatic sigh.

There's a twitch to the corner of her mouth though, a little hitch that assures him she enjoys playing this game as much as he does, and it spurs him on.

"If you're worried about catching cooties, I was tested for that before I left earth. I'm clean."

"Really? Because having seen, and spent time with some of your crew, I wouldn't trust those scientists of yours. You could have a whole hoard of issues for all I know."

Lifting an eyebrow, he fights against the smirk tugging his features until Kate turns to the control panel, her focus straight ahead like the good astronaut that she is.

 _Astronaut_...

Seven years ago he was struggling with the idea that his daughter had moved in with her Mom. Shards of his career had been like glass, littering the floor at his feet as he produced flop after flop, inspiration lacking after he'd killed off Derrick and run to Vegas to escape both his ex-wife and his _second_ ex-wife. And now?

Now he's on the cover of Time Magazine for making it here. _Mars_. They weren't the first ones, granted, _that_ would have been better, but Beckett and her team had smashed them by three months.

He'd hated them for that. Until he met them.

Met her.

Now he is happy to be behind her, beside her, anywhere in her vicinity.

Oh, the positions that he would love to explore.

Where was he...?

"You can perform a physical if you'd like, Beckett. Ensure that I'm in top condition. Besides the broken finger, that is."

There's no movement this time, her face as perfectly smooth as any sculpture he's owned - used to own, his mother claimed his belongings long before he left - and he drops his shoulders an inch, until her chair swivels, her gaze locking with his.

Hope restored.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Her gaze drifts lower, the pale pink of her tongue peeking through her lips. "Stripping you down, making sure you're… _healthy_. But doctor's offices are cold and..."

The fiery emerald of her iris heats his skin, a rivet of sweat forming at the base of his neck, sliding beneath his suit as it trails the ladder of his spine.

"Then again, we have microscopes on board so I suppose it would be okay."

Oh. Burn.

"Just kiss my poor finger, Beckett. You can do magic."

Her eyes dart to his before returning to her hand curled around the robotic stick that controls the viewing telescope attached to the top of their station. She's aloft, and turned away until, almost as if in slow motion, she shifts forward, reaches for his fingers with her own while peering into his soul.

There's warmth before she connects, like a sphere of fire encircles her, extending to encompass him first, and it's glorious.

Yet it's nothing compared to when her skin slides across his own, the inferno seeming to have a life of its own, melting the small muscles of his finger, creating lava from his blood, boiling him alive.

This is what it is to be consumed.

"Nothing happened, Castle. Looks the same to me."

He twists his hand, fingers swallowing hers within his much larger one and he ghosts his thumb in and over the ridges of her knuckles, his stare fixed and unwavering on hers.

"I disagree. Feels magical to me."

Her gaze drops away, her focus on the computer screens flashing intermittingly, no agreement forth coming and he'd label this a loss if it wasn't for the curve of her lip, a soft hoodedness to her eyelids.

The way her palm kisses his as they hold each other's hands. Just because he can.

And maybe, just maybe, because she wants to as well.

.

.

She angles her head just a fraction to peer over her shoulder, her focus ostensibly on the drill in her hand, but it's a lie, and the kick of the machine in her palms, the jerk as she misses her target is undeniable proof. She's not paying attention to what she's supposed to be doing.

He's not here.

There's no pestering. No comments about how well she can handle a tool. No shiver edging down her spine as she imagines the heat of his breath, which under different circumstances, would brush the fine hairs of her nape.

No unwanted help.

There's no Castle.

What does she do without her shadow?

Her huff of laughter blooms, a cloud of hot air across the glass of her helmet, the outside atmosphere dropping as they leave the sun behind once more; it wasn't that long ago that being free from him was the dream and now…

She drops her arms, the whine of the drill tapering away until there is peace and quiet. Solitude has been her companion for far too many years. A steady friend as she'd walked the halls of the Twelfth, her rise to detective after her mother's murder swift and icy.

Cold and lonely.

It's why she applied for this program; to be a part of something bigger, greater. Running from her past, her inability to succeed in any relationship, her guilt over her failures as a daughter.

As a cop who couldn't even get justice for her own family.

She couldn't run much further than to a different planet.

Except what she found here may be more destructive than anything on earth.

Where is he?

Striding toward the tool kit, she unplugs the battery, securing the device inside the foam casing. Buys herself another minute. If she's not going to work on re-securing the light poles that flood the area around their base with an eerie red glow, then heading back inside her station is her next step.

Should be her next step.

And yet, with a tug of the bag onto her shoulder, her toes point in the opposite direction, her shuffle placing yard upon yard between her and her 'home', until a white door so very much like her own comes into sight. Except it's one she's never been through.

For all the times he has visited - gate crashed - her team's dwelling, especially of late when their hands slide across each other, fingers shifting until they interlock under the table and counters where no one can see, she's never returned the favor.

And her inhalation pauses mid-breath, her chest tightening.

How could she be so dense?

She lifts her hand, her fingers curling, the material of her glove resisting such a movement, but she knocks anyway, swallowing the sudden flood of nerves blocking her throat. The wait for an answer draws out the seconds until they're minutes - or has she been standing here for hours? - and the anxiety breathes life to her doubts.

Run.

Go.

Don't look back.

There's no plan here, no excuse at the ready. Castle would have one; he always has a flippant remark thrown over his shoulder as he strides into her station without a care in the world.

Except, as she closes her eyes, his face shadowed in the dark of her eyelids, maybe it wasn't true. Maybe he had stood outside of her own white door and searched for a reason to enter until one day it was just expected he'd show and he stopped using excuses.

He didn't show today though…

"Hi, Kate. Right?"

She spins on the ball of her feet, the voice behind her crashing into her musings, and she nods automatically at her name, the bag on her shoulder falling to the dirt.

"Yeah. Hi. I'm just here…"

"For Castle." The younger man, light brown eyes and a smile that portrays his amusement, lists his head toward the door. "He's in his bunk."

"Oh. Um. Right."

Maybe they hadn't been so discrete after all.

"No. Down the first corridor to the left. It's the same layout as yours. I guess brilliant minds think alike."

She nods, even as she draws her eyebrows together, a curl of… curiosity creeping along the base of her neck at his words, but this is hardly the time to investigate the coincidence of similar stations. They're all here now, how it came to be isn't going to make a difference to her mission.

Grabbing the handle, she yanks the door open, her eyes squinting as the bright fluorescent light reflects and shines off the internal chamber, searing her retinas for a moment. She steps forward regardless, the familiar cocoon of their station - _so_ much like her own - calming the irregular thump to her heart.

The door snaps shut behind her, the whirl of oxygen signaling that she can remove her helmet, and she does so, finding an empty bench to set the sphere down on, trapping her bottom lip as she stares at her hands.

She's come this far after all.

Tugging the heavy material off her shoulders, she frees herself of the spacesuit, leaving her standing in nothing but her grey uniform. The lightweight material has always made her appear more soccer mom on the way to the gym rather than the ex-detective, enclosed within a ten-foot ivory tower of her own making.

But the isolation of Mars has crumbled the edges of her walls. Family, hanging out with friends, and living a normal life are not possible up here. More than one night has been spent staring at the ceiling in self-reflection.

Rick Castle is somehow taking a wrecking ball to the rest of what still stands around her.

She lets herself into his home base, breathes in the stale air that pumps through the main section of his station, shaky strides carrying her toward his bunk. No wonder he was able to leave her that coffee mug so easily, they could be living in the same place.

Not like that. Damn.

She catches herself with her palm, the notion of them being… something, together, a couple, stilling her progress forward. Is this what she's doing? Walking towards a them?

Working towards a them?

"Beckett?"

"Castle?"

.

.

He touches the corner of his sleeping bag, flips the material back and forth as he struggles with what to say next, at all. She's been sitting at his hip for nearly five minutes, the silence heavy within the bunkroom, small talk evaporating quickly. Beckett is still here though, still by his side and maybe as the user of words, the once upon a time writer of sentences, he can do this.

Say what he wants to say.

"I'm sorry I didn't come around today, there was… stuff."

Well that failed.

"No, Castle, you don't have to come around, I mean if you want to, but you don't have to. I just…" The stretch of her 'just' continuing on longer than it should, her head dropping, her thumb inserting itself between her teeth as she gnaws on its edge.

She appears almost as nervous as he is. And maybe she is. Maybe they're just two lost souls drifting through life trying to find permanence.

Find something real.

Find a reason to be bigger than they are. Better. Stronger.

"It's Alexis' birthday today. My daughter. I have a daughter back home- back on Earth. It's her birthday today and I'm not there." The rest of his explanation clogs his throat as Kate's fingers drift across his, the smooth arch of her thumb as she forms tiny circles over his knuckles stealing his words.

"She misses you, but I'm sure she's proud of where you are. What you have done. What you're _doing._ "

He swallows her platitude, the lie that it is, because the truth is so vastly different.

"Maybe." He has no idea. He never did get more than an 'okay, Dad' from his daughter before he left, the phone heavy in his palm as he'd asked if he could see her one last time, the sigh as she'd explained that she would be away on a study-abroad program.

"I'm proud of you." Her eyelashes duck, hiding the color of her irises, the shades of green that he fell in love with first.

"It goes both ways. I-" Extending his hand toward Kate, he ghosts the tip of his fingers along the line of her lips, the hue of red enticing him closer, the inches between them dissolving as he leans into her.

He never does finish his sentence, her breath against his mouth a blanket that curls along the edge of his jaw, embracing the length of his neck, covering his shoulders, bringing him home in a way he'd never thought he would feel again.

His heart pounds against his ribs, a beat so erratic that he swears he's becoming short of breath. The tattoo is a rhythm that must thump against her chest, a pattern that declares all the words he hasn't spoken. Not yet.

Lust.

Like.

Love.

.

.

This is what it is to be home.

That day on his bunk he'd had his heated skin stoked by the inferno of her own. Had his vision clouded in a red that not even Mars comes close to. Every thought now is consumed by the image of Kate, the way her lips draw wide as she pulls away from their kisses, smiling, hesitant and yet open, for him.

It's all for him.

That first kiss led to many. And yet never enough. Two weeks of having the taste of her lips seared against his own, the scent of her skin lingering even when she isn't there. Two weeks of finding joy and an ease to his stride he'd thought long lost.

Two weeks of home.

Except as the words blur on the screen in front of him, the tears swelling between his eyelids, his heart shatters.

His team is being ordered home immediately.

To Earth.

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Thank you to the wonderful people that weren't logged in but left sweet words that I couldn't reply to, and again to all those were and did the same xoxo

.

Thank you to Jo and Jamie for being magic xoxo

.

Thank you for reading xoxo


	3. Chapter 3

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 **Find You Anywhere**

 **.**

 **Chapter Three**

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An AU Caskett meeting. Because regardless of time or distance, they will find each other. Three shot.

.

.

Earth is loud.

He had never really stopped on the street and just listened before he'd left, never stood and had a contrast to compare this to. Long ago in coffee shops and parks he had watched, _observed_ , but he'd never heard the harshness that comes with people. The sounds crash hard against his ears, his shoulders hunching at the screech from a car halting too fast, his skin rippling as nasal tones jostle back and forth between two overdressed - or underdressed as the case may be - teenage girls from Queens.

He misses the quiet of Mars.

More than that, he misses Beckett's voice. The way her humor had curled around a comeback, the hint of a giggle lifting her words as she'd met him head on, their verbal dance infusing him with a glow that he'd carried close to his chest for the rest of the day.

He misses the color of her eyes, the shades that changed moment to moment. He's searched far and wide over the last three months for something, _anything_ , that comes close to being the same hues as he'd been lost in when she'd pulled back from his lips, the depth of her irises never ending as she'd peered at him for a second before ducking away each time. As if she couldn't quite believe this was real.

Or in any case, that's what he'd felt each time they'd kissed.

He was living a dream… one that he has awoken from with a sharp jab to the stomach.

He misses her.

.

.

The leather beneath him creaks softly as he reclines onto the sofa, his gaze roaming around his loft. _His_ loft. The final payment to buy his home- his apartment back from his mother, deposited last night, her celebration that he was once again on his feet - and then some - going well into the early hours. She seems happy that he's able to afford what was his to start with, even tutting about a place in Chelsea that's simply _perfect_ for her now that he can manage on his own again.

His own.

Alone.

At least he had talked with Alexis two weeks ago, has even organized for her to come across during her next break for a visit. It isn't much, but it's a start, and Beckett had shown him that all he had to do was take a chance, take that first step and good things can happen.

Pushing the latest newspaper off the edge of the pillow, he slumps down, his head landing with a gentle thud. He's been avoiding the press completely; in writing, on the news and in person as reporters hound him on the streets. They want answers about why his team has returned early to Earth, why the company that had apparently bought their passage with stolen ideas and fraudulent money was still attempting to salvage their reputation.

Why the astronauts involved had no idea what was going on behind the scenes.

The only silver lining is that he'd been approached by Black Pawn to pen his side of the story, the publishers eager to make big bucks from the tale of the year, and he's more than happy to have a reason to record all the memories of his time there.

All his memories of her.

Beckett.

Kate.

He'd left Mars after an awkward hug in front of their separate teams, her eyes cast downward as he'd mumbled empty words about seeing them soon.

It was wrong of him, _is_ wrong, to want her with him. Her mission would have to come to an end as abruptly as his, and he doesn't wish that for her.

He doesn't…

A sigh escapes his lips, the sound echoing in the vast cavern and high ceilings of his empty place. He should be writing, should peel himself off the couch and make his way into the office but, as he closes his eyes, the black a canvas that stretches on indefinitely, he lets his thoughts drift to where they shouldn't.

He can see her clearly when he's like this, can feel the soft brush of her hand across the top of his, the hint of cherries lingering on his skin as she pulls away, and he breathes in deeply through his nose as though, if he just tried hard enough, he would truly be bathed in her scent, in her once again.

There are no regrets in life, just choices that one must live with or make differently next time, and, as he pulls the throw rug off the back of the sofa, cocooning himself in its warmth, he swears to himself that if he ever did get a redo he would say what he should have said to her.

He would have told her that he loves her.

.

.

Regret is a wasted emotion. After all, it's not like she could have magically made Castle come back to Mars, somehow giving them another chance at saying goodbye, a proper goodbye this time. One that would have involved lips pressed hard against each other, teeth clashing as they'd silently sworn that it would be okay, that time and space, distance and different planets wouldn't change what they had.

What they have.

Yet, if she's honest with herself, she has no real knowledge of what they have, and she leans against the metal behind her, the cool creeping through the material of her shirt, icy fingers inching across her shoulder blades until she forces herself to stand once more.

Tired thighs and aching calves are better than the cold hand of death at her back.

She rolls her eyes at the Castle-like melodramatics invading her mind, her right hand brushing the strands of her hair away from her face, the loose strays catching between her fingers and she tugs harder, the sharp sting welcome, bringing her back into focus.

No regrets.

Their bodies pushing against each other.

Unspoken truths that should have been said before the universe and corporate stupidity ripped them apart.

I like you.

I want you.

I love you.

Huddled on her bunk the night after Castle had left Mars, his coffee mug pressed between her palms, her thumb brushing over his written words as if she could touch him through her repeated actions, she'd promised herself that if - when - she found herself before him once more she would do right by them both.

She would kick down those last remaining bricks between them and tell him what she should have said as he'd wrapped his arms around her shoulders, the heavy material of her space suit preventing her from feeling anything more than a slight pressure.

That night she didn't sleep, and by the end of the week she had trouble recalling the color of his eyes when he laughed, the way the blue became clearer, the more joy he felt. By the time a month had passed, she'd secretly downloaded his video journals onto her own device, just so she could hear his voice, see his face, even if a pane of glass separated them.

She had never dreamed that three months after he'd left, the company she'd worked for would declare bankruptcy as cashed-up supporters fled in the face of the biggest scandal since the moon landing conspiracy, that all their hard work and sacrifice was nothing compared with bad press and half-truths about a war between the two rival businesses.

And, as she steps hesitantly along the short corridor, she pushes aside thoughts of what was. To be an astronaut. To live on Mars. It was… life changing.

She's here now though, and her fear over what she will find on the other side of the large wooden door, wages war with the triumph that screams its joy about being here, doing something that until now was impossible.

She knocks on Richard Castle's front door.

.

.

There's a never ending pause, the silence from inside extending to where she stands and waits. Waits for a sign that he's home. Of all the scenarios that she had pictured over the last two weeks since being recalled to Earth, Castle not answering his own damn door had never occurred to her.

And now…

Her fear holds hands with her doubt and together they urge her back to the elevator, to run far away, but his voice from inside breaks through her plans, a soft, "I'm coming," making its way to her ears, and she straightens her shoulders, looks forward to her future.

She hopes.

The door opens, a whoosh that breathes new life within her lungs, and then he's there, real, touchable.

Kissable.

"Beckett?"

"Hi."

He hasn't moved, his left arm stretched wide as he grips the door - at least he hasn't closed it on her - his mouth agape, eyes like saucers, surprise etched into every line of his features. Surely he's read the paper? Seen the news?

Did he not think she would come?

Did he not _want_ her to come?

"I'm dreaming, right?" His head angles behind him before he turns back toward her. "Although usually when I have this dream you're only wearing one of my unbuttoned shirts..."

Castle's eyebrows fly high on his forehead, and she arches one of her own. Clearly that was an inside thought.

"I take that back. About the shirt. I mean your nakedness. I don't really. Dream. Like that-"

"You don't?"

He doesn't? Because she does... And usually there's no shirt at all. No clothes at all.

"I do. Dream. About us. You. Is this a dream?" His hand extends between them, his thumb hovering above her bottom lip, and she shifts herself into his touch, her eyes slipping closed as he traces the flesh that begs for so much more than this hesitancy.

"Oh damn. You're real."

Her breath leaves in a huff, his body slamming into hers, hands everywhere, tangled in her hair, wrapped around her waist, and she arches up onto the toes of her flats, pushes her mouth until the fire within infuses with that of his.

And _thankfully_ it's as glorious as she has been picturing every day since he'd left her.

"You're back." His mumbled words write themselves against her cheek, her skin flushing as he sucks and nips along her jaw, his palm sliding across her cheekbone until he cups the side of her face, burying himself in the arch of her neck.

She's missed this so much.

Missed him.

"I'm here. I'm here and..." Just say it, Kate. She just has to tell him what's been trapped inside her heart for the last three months.

"Beckett. I love you." His whispered declaration into the curve of her ear steals the words before she brings them to life, has _her_ chance and she leans back, poking a finger hard into his bicep.

Ass.

"I was going to say that."

He closes the gap she's created, Castle's nose nudging the length of her own, his eyes bright as his mouth lifts in one corner, his amusement clear.

"Sorry. I should have let you go first."

Reaching between their bodies, she tugs on his belt buckle, rocks her hips until he bumps back in response.

"Damn right I go first. And, Castle-" She drags her teeth across his bottom lip, the taste of him too alluring to ignore for more than a moment. "I love you, too.

.

.

She fell for him first because of his coffee mug, the sweet words he'd scrawled along the blue porcelain such a surprise and contrast to the man she'd dealt with every day while on Mars.

The complete opposite to what came out of his mouth, the jokes and one-liners that were said for no other reason than to irritate her.

But the words he breathes to life now, halted gasps of "stunning" and "beautiful" as he makes his way down her body, his lips stopping at each new discovery along her torso, are what she will remember long after tonight has finished.

Long after their time away from Earth fades.

What she found, what he'd helped her find, through his love of her, his love of life, was never on another planet.

It had been here all along.

He'd been here all along.

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Thank you for your response to this little fic, a labour of love that took far too many months to write, lol.

I truly am grateful for the kindness from each of you in your reviews xoxo

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Thank you to Jo and Jamie, my solid rocks xoxo

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Thank you for reading xoxo


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